THE DOCTOR IS IN

NO MORE MS NICE GIRL(?)

My friend Bill Corry and I have put together a program of popular old show tunes which we perform in nursing homes and senior centers. Last week's audience was unusually responsive--they sang along, beat rhythms on tables and the arms of wheelchairs, and gave us enthusiastic ovations. It was great.

As we walked out, though, a beautiful elderly woman caught me by the hand. "Honey," she said, "you have to loosen up!"

Bill and I repaired to a coffee shop for our usual postmortem. After we went over the inevitable technical glitches, I asked him, "So, do you think I'm stiff?"

He hesitated. "I wouldn't say stiff, no," he finally said. "But you do tend to ask permission to sing, to be onstage. You have a lovely voice and a warm manner, but you hold back, like you're not sure you're allowed to be there. The audience wants to be entertained, and they're looking to you--you need to own the stage."

Bill is much more experienced than I am, so I take what he says seriously.

That evening, my "boogie woogie sisters" and I rehearsed our second trio, "You Could Drive a Person Crazy," with our vocal coach, John. It's a hard song for me in places, because we go from singing in unison to complex three-part harmony, and as the middle singer, I'm often pulled upward to the soprano part. I kept going off, and cursing or groaning under my breath. Finally, John stopped playing and turned to face me.

"Look," he said, "you're sounding really good. You know your part. Sometimes you go up to Beth's part. That happens. The audience isn't going to notice or care--they'll think that's the way it was written. But I guarantee you they'll notice and care if you communicate an apology."

I remembered a teacher in graduate school telling me, in regard to my comments in class, "You have to stop apologizing for being so smart!" I didn't understand what she meant--I thought I was just participating politely, as I thought I was just singing in the nursing home. But clearly I'm doing something more. I thought about how as a girl, I was taught not to take up space, not to show off--in other words, to apologize for existing, with every breath. I thought I was through with all that, but apparently not.

I wondered how this tendency to apologize affects my writing. I looked at the story I'm working on now, and I have to say, I'm much looser and weirder in my writing than I was a few years ago. But I imagine there is still more there; that I hold back without realizing it.

When I asked Bill for permission to write about all this, he said, "I'm so glad you brought it up--I've been feeling sheepish about what I said to you. You're a fine singer, and I was afraid I'd undermined you, made you self-conscious."

"Not at all," I told him. "I asked you--and I need friends like you to point out what I can't see in myself."

"In that case," he said, drawing a deep breath, "I'll go a step further. You need to give yourself permission to be a bad girl. I have a strong feeling that underneath that sweet exterior, there's a red hot mama fighting to get out. Do yourself a favor and let her rip!"

I promised him I'd do my best. So--watch out! (Please. And sorry for any inconvenience.)

Susan O'Doherty, Ph.D.,is a clinical psychologist with a New York City-based practice. A fiction writer herself,she specializes in issues affecting writers and other creative artists. She is the author of Getting Unstuck without Coming Unglued: A Woman's Guide to Unblocking Creativity(Seal, 2007). Her Career Coach column appears every Monday on Inside Higher Ed's Mama, Ph.D. blog, and she is a regular monthly panelist on Litopia After Dark. Send your questions to her at Dr.Sue at mindspring dot com.

Comments

[me.yahoo.com/a/_oChAtUTwdYvAxvSCtS9_MUGJ7pd]

For years I nagged my mother to make her stop beginning sentences with "You know what you should do...". She finally stopped, but here I am doing it myself - sorry!

But, you know what you should do? Go to a live roller derby match. Seriously. Today's roller girls are amazing, and I don't think it's possible to leave a match without feeling totally pumped and bursting to let go of all constraints. Go watch the Gotham Girls play and, I promise, you'll be amazed at how you feel afterward.

[DrSue]

What a fascinating suggestion--I will look into it, thanks!

[Susanne Dunlap]

Loved that post! And that early "training" is so hard to break out of. I notice it in myself still. Thanks for sharing your own epiphany.

[Hard Time]

I was pondering this earlier today. Physical stiffness seems to be a deterrent to more playful prose. I've pledged to do more yoga. It sometimes takes others to identify the tension in us that we don't know is there.